REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Where all native noses point southward.

MR. MAC QUEDY. Eh, sir, northward for wisdom, and southward for
profit.

MR. CROTCHET, JUN. Champagne, doctor?

REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Most willingly. But you will permit my
drinking it while it sparkles. I hold it a heresy to let it deaden
in my hand, while the glass of my compotator is being filled on the
opposite side of the table. By-the-bye, Captain, you remember a
passage in Athenaeus, where he cites Menander on the subject of
fish-sauce: [Greek text]. (The Captain was aghast for an answer
that would satisfy both his neighbours, when he was relieved by the
divine continuing.) The science of fish-sauce, Mr. Mac Quedy, is
by no means brought to perfection; a fine field of discovery still
lies open in that line.

MR. MAC QUEDY. Nay, sir, beyond lobster-sauce, I take it, ye
cannot go.

REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. In their line, I grant you, oyster and lobster-
sauce are the pillars of Hercules. But I speak of the cruet
sauces, where the quintessence of the sapid is condensed in a
phial. I can taste in my mind's palate a combination, which, if I
could give it reality, I would christen with the name of my
college, and hand it down to posterity as a seat of learning
indeed.